Tag Archives: Orgasm

Macy’s Confession – Part Three of Three

(Begin with Part One)

Part Three –

“My Baby You” began to play, a softer and more romantic tune that grew with intensity along the way. 

This was very similar to the situation in the back seat of Miles’ convertible mustang, Macy having climbed on top of him – straddling his lap with bent knees and facing him as she grabbed the sides of his face with her hands.  In response, he grabbed her diapered bottom and squeezed – the first hint of the aggression he was keeping bridled … for the time being, at least.  Macy kissed him deeply, with an open mouth.  Aiming to continue to fuel his aggressions, she displayed a bit of her own – getting aggressive with her tongue.  It was offered as a challenge to him. 

Was he going to allow her to dominate the kiss or was he going to take charge of her?

Not making it easy on him, she kept her forcefulness constant – making him work to battle back.  And all it took was a few seconds before he responded.  Gripping her diapered bottom more tightly with his right hand, he slid his left hand up the back of her neck, his fingers going into a fist and grabbing the hair at the back of her head before he sat up and pushed back on her tongue.  Forcing it back into her mouth and following it in with his tongue, he leveled the playing field of dominance.  Macy instinctively backed down with no further resistance.

These were the challenges of life she was very happy to lose.  And if she lost, having to concede, it actually meant she won – bringing his aggressiveness up to his surface … an aggressiveness he would now use on her.

And she was right, he would indeed use his aggression on her … just not how she thought he would.

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Macy’s Confession – Part Two of Three

(Begin with Part One)

Part Two –

Miles held her right hand as he opened the front door, walking out onto the front porch and leading her out as well.  And as she passed through the front door onto that porch, her shoulders shrunk up as her chin lowered and her posture slumped a little.  Her heart was beating very fast and as she took small steps down off the porch, her entire body was trembling.  She was terrified, but at the same time, she was excited.  And every one of her senses were alert, sending a flood of messages to her little mind – overwhelming her.

The smell of the nighttime air was cool and crisp.  But it wasn’t cold outside.  And she could certainly smell the baby powder he had coated her center with.  Somewhere nearby, someone was burning wood, the faint trace of its smell in the air as he led her over to his car.

Her eyes tossed left and right, her chin remaining lowered as she tried not to move her head.  Who was nearby?  Who could see her?  And as she kept a lookout for others, she noticed the waddle of her steps and how her feet remained a bit further apart than they usually did.  Oh yes, he had put her in a thick diaper.

Her ears could hear the distinct noises of a crinkling thunderstorm, growing louder and louder with each waddled stride she took.  It was a deafening sound, louder than the crickets all around.  She could hear sounds off in the distance, traffic on the highway – a few streets away.  She heard the dogs in the backyard of the house across the street.  But no matter what the actual distance was for each noise, it all sounded like it was right next to her.

And speaking of traffic … particularly flash traffic … being a creature of touch, her sense of that same thing was certainly at high alarm – sending a stream of messages to her brain from every nerve ending in her body.  The cool night air was a welcomed sensation on her forehead as she felt like she was burning up from the inside.  The satin on her skin left the trace feel of a smoothened touch.  And the confusing remains of arousal … well, that was all it took to jumble any lingering feelings of being settled.

All of this was new.  She had no idea what to expect.  And not knowing excited her a little.  Perhaps even a little more than just a little.

Miles took his time getting the front passenger’s seat ready, only adding a bit more anxiety to Macy’s fragile state of mind.  She stood there by the side of his car – chin lowered, eyes glancing all around, nursing on her pacifier and tingling all over.  It felt like he was deliberately taking his time in getting things ready for her to sit.  And there was a level of truth to that.  His car was a convertible Mustang, his other baby – as she called it.  It was cherry red, the color of car that got pulled over more than any other – adding just a little bit more worry about what this mysterious trip would entail.  She could feel her heart pounding so heavily that blood started racing all throughout her body, making her a bit dizzy.

Ooooo!  What was taking him so long?

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Macy’s Confession – Part One of Three

Part One –

Macy lathered her hair, stepping under the hot stream of water in the shower and exhaling.  No, she wasn’t exhausted from the day at all.  Quite to the contrary, she was feeling an energy she normally didn’t at 9:30 on a Wednesday night.  The middle of the week wasn’t supposed to be this invigorating.  But there was a reason for that.

This wasn’t just any old Wednesday night.  It was the 3-month anniversary of a relationship with someone she was falling in love with at an alarmingly quick rate.  His name was Miles.  And they both had taken tomorrow off from work to celebrate their 3-month anniversary since she wasn’t able to get today off.  So, tomorrow would be a celebration of 3 months and one day.  And, in a sense, it was even more meaningful to them that way.  Macy and Miles were always looking down the road, to the future.  They were too new to each other to realize that nothing should ever come at the expense of the moment. 

But they were learning.  Every day, they were learning.

Rinsing her hair out, she remained under the stream of hot water for a moment, smiling and shrinking up her shoulders with shyness as she thought about their once-a-month confessions.

At the mark of every month, both of them made a personal confession about themselves.  But it couldn’t be a trivial confession.  It had to be something they wouldn’t just tell anyone.  So these confessions weren’t anything like: “I like socks” or “I must have a half, double, decaffeinated, half-caf, mocha, locha latte coffee by 9am every morning or I just simply can’t function.”

And these confessions enabled them to have time to get to know each other, while also moving them forward – as the personal nature of these confessions not only opened them up to each other that much more but were also signs of trust. 

When bearing one’s best kept secrets, nothing matter more than trust. 

Macy turned the water off and reached outside the curtain to the toilet seat, picking up the towel she always pre-set there so she could dry off in the warmth of the shower.  Wrapping the towel around her hair like a turban, she opened the shower curtain – her eyes growing big-n-wide as she saw her make-up bag sitting on the bathroom sink.

Stepping out of the tub, she ran to the sink, seeing the little note on her make-up bag that read: Time for “Dress-Up”

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